Stranger Like Me
by DarkElements10
Summary: Nothing can get past Dr. Henry Morgan. He notices everything about everyone that walks by him. He never thought that someone else could do the same. And when he finds out there's more than meets the eye with the stranger, he wants to help at all costs.
1. Chapter 1

**Stranger Like Me**

**By: Riley**

**Summary – Nothing can get past Dr. Henry Morgan. He notices everything about everyone that walks by him. He never thought that someone else could do the same.**

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><p>Dr. Henry Morgan was knuckles deep into the chest of a recently deceased middle aged man when a group of teenagers walked into the examination room led by his associate, Lucas Wan. He briefly glanced up as Lucas approached the table, his eyes taking in the students and teacher as they came to a stop.<p>

"And this is Dr. Morgan," Lucas was saying, motioning to him. "He's our leading medical examiner. Not only is he able to correctly diagnose what has been the cause of death for those that are brought in here, but he can even do it at times without even having to open the body to do so." He leaned towards the students. "And let me tell you that can be very creepy."

"You find that creepy when we have a class filled with high school students coming to visit a medical examiner?" Dr. Morgan replied with a quirk of an eyebrow and a half smile. Lucas rolled his head towards his colleague and gave him a warm smile. Dr. Morgan's lips twitched before he turned to the teacher, who had opened her mouth to respond. "I assume that this is for a physiology class not necessarily including the fact that this is for an advanced class."

The teacher's eyes widened. "H-how did you know that?" She stammered, clearly impressed with how he could've deducted it just from glancing at the students.

Dr. Morgan pulled back from the body in front of him, blood sticking to the fingers of his gloves. He nodded over to the student that was standing right in front of him. He had noticed the notebook that she was holding in front of her. "Physiology is one of the few courses that would have someone visit a medical examiner." He cleared his throat. "Not only is she ready to take notes, but she's clearly not the only one as there are pens or pencils sticking out of the pockets of all of the students, which indicates they're very good students as others would be listening to their music players," he said. "Then there's the fact that there are scuffs on the front of some of the shoes that hold a certain smudge of dirt which is reminiscent of being in the subway giving the idea that you've come from out of the city to get here, and there aren't many cases where students at this time of day, would be out of school." He smiled then motioned to the body that was lying in front of him. "Would anyone care to guess what has caused the death of this one?"

"Don't feel bad if you can't get it right," Lucas said to the students. "He's the only one I know that can do it within a few seconds."

A few guesses came left and right from a heart attack, to an allergy, to head trauma. It wasn't until the last boy that stood at the end spoke up that Dr. Morgan took notice. He looked like a normal fifteen year old boy, shaggy black hair with blue streaks, dark blue eyes, wearing baggy sweatshirt and black jeans. He had been silent, eyes moving over the body, listening to his classmates before he continued. "This man died from a drug overdose," he said.

Dr. Morgan blinked and looked at him for a long moment. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

As the boy brought in a deep breath, he pressed his lips together and dimples appeared in his cheeks. "The skin is flushed a light pink which shows the idea of a height in temperature if not blood pressure. The way his eyes don't particularly seem to be focused, with the eyebrows slightly raised, shows that sleepiness or confusion set in when he was overdosing. Despite the fact that the temperature of the body had obviously risen, again, according to the flushness of the skin, there is no over signs of sweat, which can also come during an overdose. From the way his hand is at his side, appearing to have been forced down after rigor mortis set in, he had chest pain and if I'm correct in assuming, if you open his mouth and take a swab you may find some vomit."

Dr. Morgan continued to stare at the boy; listening to the boy s he spoke. There was something about him, about the way he was speaking and sounding as if he was trying to downplay himself, but knew what he was talking about. He had only ever seen it happen to one person before and that was because it was coming from him. Being immortal, having see so much, he had become so perceptive. A quick glance at someone and he could tell what kind of person they were and more than likely figure out what their plans for that day were.

For example, looking at the teacher, he could tell that she was a middle-aged woman that was looking for a date. The makeup that was put on her face only had a few smudges but she otherwise, cared a lot about her appearance. He could see the wrinkles that were starting to form under her foundation. There were some bags under her eyes that indicated she had many late nights working on her school work and the way she would look at her students every now and then with a smile proves she cared a lot about how she was helping them with their schooling as they continued on with life.

There were a lot of things he got out of her, but this boy…it was different.

"There are no track marks though," Lucas pointed out.

The boy shrugged. "Check the webs of the fingers and toes, more often than not drug users inject there as it's harder to detect. Not only that, but check the heel of the foot, I heard that it was a new spot for drug users as well."

His eyes continuing to be trained on the boy, Dr. Morgan slowly walked around the examining table, removing the gloves that were on his hands. "You, sir, made a remarkable guess."

"No, he's just perceptive," The teacher said.

"No, I'm just smart," the boy replied with a slight smirk.

"You're not modest either," Lucas commented. Sydney shrugged and flicked his hair out of his face but didn't bother to deny the accusation.

"That's Sydney," the teacher continued. "He's a remarkable talent with his perceptiveness, gets top marks on all of his papers and tests. He was really excited to be able to come here today, to meet you, actually."

Those words surprised Dr. Morgan for a moment before he mentally panicked. How much did this kid know about him? Was he ware of his immortality as well? Was he aware that the moment he died his body would disappear and he would appear in the nearest body of water completely naked? And if so, how was that possible if Abram was the only one that knew it? And no one else had managed to come close to figuring out what made the doctor so mysterious. Instead of speaking all of those thoughts, he decided to go with what would make him sound less suspicious.

"Is that so?"

"I've heard a lot about what you've managed to accomplish while here," Sydney said. "I mean, not only are you able to deduce a death just from a few seconds of probing, but you've assisted many cases over the past couple of years."

Slowly smiling, Dr. Morgan nodded. He and Lucas went through the rest of what was to be done as a medical examiner as well as showed the students around the facility before it was time for them to leave. As the students trooped by them, Dr. Morgan caught Sydney's attention.

"You're not an American," he said to the boy. Sydney turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not only is it that you appear to be more tanned than the other students, proving that you live closer to the equator, but your facial features are slightly different than that of an American. There is a slight hint of Asian in your features but it seems to be overshadowed by an Australian lineage. And when you speak, there is an American accent that comes out, however your pronunciations of the letters 'h' and 'o' are slightly different, reminiscent of one that is Australian."

Now Sydney turned to face him completely.

"And if that were the case, it makes me wonder what it is that you're doing in New York and how do you know so much about me," The British doctor continued.

"I already said, I'm really smart," Sydney said, this time he dropped his American accent and replaced it with an Australian one, confirming his deductions. "In fact, I'm actually a part of Mensa. And, like I've also stated, I know a lot about you because I enjoy seeing how well you deduct things."

"But considering you had slight difficulty to hide the 'h' and 'o' in your words it proves that you haven't been using an American accent for long, meaning that you're purposefully hiding your Australian accent and I can't help but wonder why."

Sydney's eyebrows rose and he turned to catch up with his class, hands still in the front pocket of his sweatshirt as they always had been. Dr. Morgan watched him leave, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced back at the cadaver that sat resting on the table, eyes narrowing for a moment. He was sure the boy wasn't one that could die and come back to life, if he had, he wouldn't be so young. Still, there was something about him that was intriguing.

Not many people were as perceptive as he was and that only came from years of dying and coming back to life, so much so that it was starting to get old. And yet, he felt a little comforted knowing there was someone out there that understood a little bit about what he was going through.

The thought alone comforted him, even just a little bit.

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><p><strong>THE END<strong>

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><p><strong>AN: **I bet you all expected for Sydney to be able to die and come back to life as well. I really didn't want to do that, especially since we don't know who is the one that's chasing Dr. Morgan around other than us knowing him as "Adam". But I thought it would be cool if there was someone that could do the same as he could, but just because he was smart.

Making it a fifteen year old boy I thought was good match. I left it on a bit of a mystery if anyone wanted me to continue it, but for the moment I wanted to make it a one-shot. Also, I don't know if he's supposed to be British or Welsh like Ioan Gruffudd actually is, so I said British. I'll change it if I have to.

Cheers,

-Riles


	2. Chapter 2

**.:2:.**

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><p>The next time Henry saw Sydney was when he was walking down the New York streets, hoping to have some time to himself.<p>

There weren't many moments that Henry had time to himself. In fact, now that he was immortal he found himself around people all the time. Watching them, studying them. It was a point of his to figure out what it was that caused him to be able to stay alive or as long as he had. It enhanced his abilities to understand people, to give him the upper hand at his job, he found it fascinating, and of the utmost importance, it kept him from feeling so alone.

Immortality, in theory, was a great idea. The ability to see the world around you change, not worrying about being able to die, being able to do whatever it was you wanted in life as you had nothing but time on your hands…living it was a completely different thing.

How do you tell your parents, your wife, and your son that you can't die and as they age around you, you'll still be thirty-five years old? It will continue to be that way until they're long gone and you're alone. What was the worst part? Being alone in life or being alone in death?

The nagging thought that anyone he would get close to would leave him and continue to bring that fresh wave of pain and suffering time and time again was the driving force behind Henry's wanting to unlock the secret and to finally die so that he didn't have to live in pain that much longer.

His theory was tested once more when he was crossing the street and one of the New York cabs screeched out of the street and up onto the sidewalk. Henry quickly backed up a few paces—one of his saving graces of being alive so long was that his reflexes got better over time, recognizing the telltale signs of danger—and watched as the taxi screeched to a halt in front of him, the two right ties on the curb.

The driver's side door opened and the taxi driver quickly climes out, face ashen, eyes wide with terror. "Are you alright?" He asked Henry. "That asshole cut me off, I didn't have time to stop!" He placed a hand on Henry's shoulder and looked him up and down. "You're the luckiest son of a bitch, I've ever seen."

Henry merely gave the man a smile and an awkward pat on the shoulder before backing away from the taxi driver's grasp and started down the street once more. _If only he knew, _Henry thought with a wry smile. But instead of addressing it, he continued down the street, past the newspaper stands, by the fancy stores that patrons walked in and out of, heading towards central park. He had started to pass by a hot dog stand when he recognized the Australian accented voice which was much out of place in New York.

"Thanks mate," the fifteen year old said as he backed away from the stand, holding up the food in a napkin. "Hoo roo." He turned and took a bite out of it, chewing for a second, before looking up and noticing Henry standing across from him. "I thought I'd run into you," he remarked before taking another bite.

Henry's eyebrows rose. He hadn't been honestly and truly surprised in a long time. It must've been his cynicism, his growing bitterness at life while his Abigail had passed ages ago, that had done it to him. And yet, he found the familiar sensation rising through his body as Sydney continued to look at him.

"I-I'm sorry, how did you know I'd be here?" Henry asked.

Sydney's right eyebrow rocked upwards as he pressed his lips together. His dimple appeared in his cheek, blue eyes lighting up. "Sorry, mate, but it should be obvious considering you walk this path nearly every weekend."

"Have you been following me?"

"Observing is the better statement," Sydney quickly corrected him. "And it's not that I've been observing you, really, but that you stick out like a sore thumb to those around you."

Henry slightly turned his head away as he continued to gaze at the young boy. He appeared just like any teenager at the time; long shaggy hair, baggy sweatshirt over tight pants, the latest shoes, and an arrogant disposition that seemed to envelop him like an egg. "How do I appear then?"

Sydney blinked once. "Well, you're not particularly dressed like those around you, more in an old-fashioned way. You're never with anyone, unless it's with that older man that sometimes comes along. Your father?"

Henry braved a half smile. Yes, his father. Would anyone believe that the ma that was old enough to be his father was, in fact, his son? He didn't think it would be so hard to decipher, they called each other by their first name and Henry did, in fact, treat the man like a son. Looking out for him, especially as he moved up in his older age. Though in his experience he knew that was likened to the fact that older adults were treated like children. Humans moved in cycles in that way, protected, made to look after themselves, then protected once more.

"You enjoy looking at the architecture of some of the buildings around here, which not many people take the time to stop and look at. Plus you don't ever stop to talk to anyone. You just walk around, lost in your own thoughts." Sydney looked up at him innocently before inspecting the hot dog in his hand. "But then again, that's just a theory, yeah?"

"Some theory," Henry agreed. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, letting it out in a long breath that condensed in front of him. It would be winter soon, one of the better seasons for the city. It brought a 'new beginning' kind of feel to those around them. "Though there are many parts you got right. I do enjoy looking at the architecture," he admitted. "It gives a lot of history and depth to the city around us. Most wouldn't entertain the thought, they're more inclined to…" trailing off, he looked around his shoulder, noticing a older teenage boy with his head tilted down towards his phone, walked right into a pole, backed up, and continued on his way. "Be engrossed in their pieces of technology."

"Spoken like a true historian, mate."

"It's a hobby," Henry said vaguely. He continued down the sidewalk with Sydney falling in step beside him. "Pardon my intrusive question, but if you're Australian, what are you doing out here in New York? Other than your schooling, though you appear to be bored with it."

"Who said I was bored?" Sydney finished his hot dog and threw away the napkin into a trashcan they passed.

Henry slowly nodded, pursing his lips. "Those that are interested in their school work don't usually look at everything _but_ the subject they're supposed to be studying. You came to my work with your class to get an idea of what a medical examiner does, but apart from the body, you were too busy looking to see what everyone else was doing. That's not to mention the fact that you said you were interested in some of the work I've been doing, not _our _work in general."

"Is it a problem that I find my school work to be boring?" Sydney shot back. "I mean, I'd figure a man with your smarts would agree that there are menial duties that come along with being in school." He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. "My brothers and sisters won't be particularly happy to hear it, but they've already done so much for me." He stopped short, sucking his lips into his mouth, eyes shifting aside.

Henry noticed it as a way to hide something and while there was a part of him that was still curious as to why a fifteen year old Australian boy—who clearly had some family somewhere—was keeping it such a secret. Not only was the boy very smart, but he was just as secretive as Henry was, maybe more. The tell was the way the boy had moved his eyes to the side, in particular, to the left, almost subtly. Henry almost missed the movement, but he noticed it.

However, that thought didn't trouble him. He was keeping his own secret and to each his own.

Still, he couldn't help but be a little intrigued and the thought comforted him a little.

"I have to go," Sydney said suddenly. They had come up to a crosswalk with Central Park in front of them. The boy pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "I've got homework and stuff to do and you wouldn't want me to keep bothering you."

"It's not a bother at all."

"If you say so, mate." Sydney smiled warmly, causing Henry to smile back. "Hoo roo." Lifting a hand, Sydney turned on his heel and walked away.

Henry watched him go before heading off into Central Park. As he went around the tourist destination, he had become even more aware of what Sydney had said to him; the ones that were walking about weren't dressed the way he was. He _was _an old-fashioned man, being alive for over two hundred years could do that.

And despite the knowledge that he would never really, truly, fit in with those that came and went around him, it was nice to know he still had someone he considered a friend.

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><p><strong>AN: **I didn't originally intend to extend this, but I've had some ideas. It may read as a bunch of one-shots together in one story, but I kind of like that. I'm not sure how long this'll go on, if it does go any further, it'll be updated every now and then. I'm in grad school and that takes up a lot of time.

Cheers,

-Riles


	3. Chapter 3

**.:3:.**

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><p>The third time Henry ran into Sydney, he was sure something was going on with the teenage boy and he made up his mind that he was going to do something about it.<p>

He and Abe had been playing chess in the antique store, mulling over the latest police case that Henry had assisted with. Abe, of course, was trying to stir something between Henry and Detective Jo Martinez and as per usual, Henry was avoiding the statements with snide remarks, soft smiles, and rolls of his eyes.

"I told you before, I'm content not spending my life with anyone," Henry reminded Abe, eyes studying the board as he tried to find a way to keep his adoptive son form finding the placement to put him in check mate. Henry's smile waned for a moment.

Son.

It was so normal to him, to say that, as he was the one that had adopted Abe and raised him along with Abigail. But now that Abe was older, clearly going to pass before Henry ever would if he didn't find the source of his immortality, every now and then he wondered what it really was that was keeping him from opening himself up to other people. Sure the idea that telling some he couldn't die was tempting, but he was afraid of the more than likely outcome that he'd end up being experimented on—and he rather liked his privacy.

But to be able to share his life with someone else…in a romantic way, that was a harder thing to realize. He didn't believe women would be perceptive to the idea that they would grow old while he continued to be young. Abigail hadn't cared even as she got into her old age and the two couldn't be as romantic in public, she still loved him as much as she had when they first met. But things always had to end and he couldn't stand the thought of being hurt as badly as he had when she passed.

No.

He was fine on his own.

"I'm just saying that you need a woman that's willing to put you in your place every now and then," Abe said. He frowned when Henry moved his chess piece forward, placing him in check. "You have to admit that you have a tendency to get your way a lot." He pointed towards the man that was his adoptive father but appeared he could be his son. "Immortality be damned, she's good for you."

"I only have a professional relationship with Ms. Martinez and I intend to keep it that way," Henry said. He leaned back in his seat, reaching out and grabbing the warm coffee mug that sat in front of him. "As it is, she appears annoyed by me each time I'm around her."

"Gee, I can't imagine why."

"Abe, is that sarcasm I detect?"

"You bet your ass it is." Abe ignored the amused glance Henry sent his way. "You may be immortal, but she's right. You can't keep running around and acting like you can't seriously get hurt. Your curiosity is really what's going to be the death of you."

"I hope."

Henry took a long sip of his mug and waited for Abe to make that fatal move he anticipated then moved his Rook forward. "Check mate." Abe stared at the board in disbelief and Henry stood up, pushing back his chair with his thighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be downstairs using my curiosity to speed up my impending doom." Abe gave a humorless laugh behind him as Henry walked over towards the trap door in the middle of the floor.

He stopped, hearing the door to the antique shop open and whirled around to face the front door, watching as Sydney slowly made his way inside, eyes looking around. When he spotted Henry he smiled and sauntered in, pulling his earbuds from his ears. "Hey."

"Hey." Henry blinked in confusion, turning to Abe, who looked at the young teenager with a raised eyebrow. "What brings you by here?" He then paused. "As a matter of fact, how did you know I worked here?"

"A guess," Sydney replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I mean, an old-fashioned guy like you, where else would you work?" Abe stifled his laughter, Henry turning and glared at him. "I've walked by a few times…I've seen you in here." He shrugged, eyes shifting. "Is this a bad time?"

"I don't know a lot of teenagers that were interested in antiques," Abe commented, walking over. "But I'm sure we can find something that you would be interested in." He looked the boy up and down. "Or that you can afford." He cleared his throat. "You are aware that these items can yield a hefty price tag."

Sydney smirked. "I can afford it," he said.

"Did you strike oil overnight?"

Once again, Sydney's eyes shifted and he merely shrugged in reply. Henry walked back over to the table that held the chess table and sat down, watching s Abe lead Sydney around the shop, pointing out new furniture, the history of each piece, bringing Sydney into conversation over each one.

Henry's eyebrows rose. So this kid was good at school, very smart, perceptive and was into antiques? There was something off about it. Not that it wasn't possible. But having lived for more than two-hundred years, Henry had a good look at teenagers and how they acted as the years went on. Teenagers his age were supposed to be sucking down soda and energy drinks while they pulled all-nighters on their video games, hitting on girls and hanging out with their friends. Why would he want to, consistently, hang around Henry when he probably had better things to do.

_Then again, you never did get an answer as to why he's here in New York, _Henry reminded himself. There were many reasons for it happening, one of his parents being an American, having moved due to a job. He had mentioned brothers and sisters once but didn't say anything about his family otherwise. And he sure was secretive, more than other teenagers were. When they got the chance they usually talked as much as they could, one-upping their friends the best they could while trying not to give into peer pressure.

"So what is it that tickles your fancy?" Abe asked, spreading his arms around the store inventory.

"I really like this mirror, actually," Sydney said. He reached out and grabbed onto a handheld mirror with gold plating, jewel studs, ad butterflies painted on the side. "My Mum had one just like it, but my brothers and I accidentally broke it ages ago."

Henry started, noticing how the boy's eyes had lowered. It wasn't the same as when he was trying to avoid a question, no this was different. Something was painful for the boy. It was in his body language; suddenly turning in on himself, the lowered eyes, the slight pout. Maybe something that had happened recently? No, if that were the case he wouldn't be able to continuously put on such a normal demeanor, to read Henry as well as he could.

"Anyway, I'd like to buy it, mate," Sydney continued, snapping out of his trance. He handed the mirror back over to Abe, reaching into his back pocket and producing a small, black card. "How much?"

"About a thousand dollars," Abe replied.

Henry looked over at Sydney once more, expecting his eyes to grow wide with surprise, shock, or worry, but instead he retained his calm demeanor and handed Abe the black card so he could go to the register. He started to head over towards Henry and spotted the old fashioned phone that rested on the front counter. "Wow, you guys are really going for the antique angle, yeah?"

"We have to keep up with idea of the store, right?" Henry asked, raising his mug in greeting.

"Sure, but you'd seriously increase your revenue if you created and app that would show people your inventory as well as highlighting the places that the pieces specifically come from," Sydney said. He sat down across the table from Henry. "Not including the fact there's a highly probably chance that you'd be able to crate connections with other vendors or antique shows in the area to acquire even more inventory." He blew his hair out his face then quickly arranged it so that it fell back in front of his eyes once more. "You'd get in touch with new clientele around the world, as well."

Henry gave a wry smile. Technology, although he appreciated the mass change in medicine and science, had never been something he was particularly interested in. There were too many things to learn how to do. He didn't even have an e-mail address, something Detective Martinez got onto his case about as well. The sooner he got on the internet—was that what they were still calling it—the sooner someone could look him up and things would get messy for him.

Messier than it was, anyway.

Just that morning he found himself crossing the street at the worst opportune time and had his brain splattered all over the pavement, before having popped up in the Hudson River and being arrested. Again. When Abe arrived at the police station to drive him back home, he had opened the passenger door to his car and looked at the young man remarking, "If this wasn't so funny, I would be tired of this by now."

To which Henry only responded with a half smile.

"Me and technology don't mix very well, I'm afraid," he said.

"Technology and _I," _Sydney quickly corrected him. Dimples appeared in his cheeks as he smiled.

Henry regarded him. "Has anyone ever told you—"

"That I can be annoying? A smart ass? Arrogant?" Sydney guessed. "Oh, all the time. My brothers and sisters are the ones that say it mostly."

"I was going to say, very sure of yourself, but that works," Henry said. He looked up as Abe walked back from the cash register with the hand held mirror carefully wrapped and placed in a bag. "You have brothers and sisters huh?"

"Yep. It's Julius, then my sisters Riley and Rhuben, who are twins, then Patrick and Noah, who are twins, then me," he explained.

"Wow, that's a big family."

Sydney's cheek twitched. "Yeah, there's never a dull moment."

"I'm sure Henry could say the same," Abe remarked, causing Henry to glare at him once more. He chuckled and motioned behind Henry as the door to the antique shop opened once more, a ringing bell capturing their attention ."Good Morning, Detective Martinez. Don't tell me that someone started off the morning with a bang already?"

Detective Martinez gave what appeared to be an amused smile, though it didn't particularly reach her eyes from what Henry noticed. In fact, the way she had her arms crossed, eyes slightly narrowed, her head having jerked at the sound of the bell ringing overhead showed she either had a hangover or was getting over a cold with a splitting headache. He would bank on a hangover, however, considering she had put on more makeup than usual to try and off set her bloodshot eyes.

Either the case they had been working on before—where a little kid had suddenly pass, where it turned out that her mother was poisoning her food—had taken its toll on her or else she had been reminded of her late husband and couldn't shake the darkness that surrounded her.

"You don't have to worry about that," Detective Martinez replied with a slight sigh. "But there is a new case that I need Henry's help with." She turned to the immortal man, who regarded her with interest. "We've found a body at the post office, there are no outward signs of a struggle or anything that would've caused his death. The man was fairly young, about your age, and yet his family seems to think he was murdered." She cleared her throat. "But _please, _this time when I say for you not to get into anything, please don't get into anything. Just do your own job and leave the rest to us."

"I'll be right there," Henry replied, placing his mug on the table. It didn't look like he was going to be getting a lot of his research done that day. Standing up, he motioned over to Sydney, who suddenly appeared to shrink back in his chair. "This is Sydney. I've made his acquaintance a couple days ago."

"Is there any particular reason why you treat him like he's your son?" Sydney bluntly asked Detective Martinez.

She blinked in surprise as Henry stifled a smile. "I—uh—" Closing her eyes, she gently shook her head. "I don't treat him like he's my son."

"You just told him not to get into anything, yeah? Much like a mother would to a child that's always getting in the way of something." He watched her, tilting his head to the side. "It's either that or you're slightly irritated by him because he's managed to solve some of the more…inexplicable cases that have gained media attention as of late."

Detective Martinez looked at everyone in the room, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh my God, there's two of you," she remarked. "You're not related to him are you?"

"Uh, no." Sydney chuckled. He sat up straight. "By the way, I'd suggest black eyeliner, as opposed to the brown that you're using, to offset the redness of your eyes."

"Thanks for the tip." Detective Martinez turned back to Henry and tapped at the face of her watch. "We have to get going, Henry."

"Let me just grab my coat." Henry picked it up off the back of his chair and shrugged into it. "Sydney, do you need a ride anywhere?"

"No." The teenage boy paled and quickly jumped off of his seat. He grabbed onto the bag that had been left for him and hurried towards the front door. "Thanks for the mirror! Hoo roo!" Once he was out the door, he tucked the mirror into the pocket of his sweatshirt and took off down the street at a high speed. The three adults watched him race by the window, disappearing form site.

Frowning, Henry followed Detective Martinez out of the shop and looked down the street in the direction that Sydney had run off in but didn't see him through the crowds the covered the street. With a wave of her hand, Detective Martinez motioned for Henry to follow her down the street, in the opposite direction towards her car.

"You know Henry, you really surprise me," Detective Martinez commented. "You have a…interesting taste in friends. First a man that's old enough to be your father and now a teenage boy? Suffice to say you're not like any other person I've met."

"Neither is Sydney, considering the fact he's being abused," Henry commented.

Stopping on a dime, Detective Martinez turned towards him. "That's a serious allegation," she said. "Not something to make a joke of."

"By now I'd hope that you would take everything I'd say seriously," Henry commented. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Didn't you notice the way he visibly paled when you came into the store, let alone spoke with him? That shows he has had some interactions with the police that he isn't willing to have again. I didn't think of abuse at first, but then there was the specific way he would keep his eyes away from me or Abe, also keeping his hair in his face. It wasn't until he blew his hair out of the way, a normal movement of a teenage boy with shaggy hair that I noticed the bruise."

"OK." Detective Martinez looked directly at him. "If that's the case, who would you say is the one abusing him?"

Henry smiled. "That's the tricky part as physical abuse is normally at the hands of the parents. I would suspect them if it weren't for the fact that Sydney reacted very well, sensitive towards the mention of his mother, showing that he really did care of her. I use 'did' as the operative word because of a earlier conversation that he and Abe had while he was buying the antique mirror. I believe that either something happened to his parents or he's just not living with them anymore and that he is currently living with someone that had been abusing him. The mention of his brothers and sisters shows that's really close to them as well. I believe that he's been separated from them, here in New York while they may still be in Australia. But the question is, why?"

"Alright. I'll take a look into it after we figure out what happened to his postal worker."

"I'm highly inclined to say that a very nasty paper cut is out of the question."

"Funny."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **As you can see I have enough of an idea to bring this up into a short story, probably ending at ten chapters. It doesn't focus on the drama of Henry being immortal as much as him now trying to help someone that's more like him-Sydney-who isn't immortal. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it.

Cheers,

-Riles


	4. Chapter 4

**.:4:.**

* * *

><p>"Uh, I thought we worked with dead bodies, not live ones," Lucas pointed out as he watched Henry pace back and forth in front of him in long strides. He watched as Henry shot him a look, quickly pausing mid-stride, and continued once more. "What is it about this that's gotten you so riled up?"<p>

Henry sighed, slowing himself once more. Raising his hands, he ran them over his face.

"What is it with you and kids anyway?" Lucas continued. "They're, like, the only ones you actually talk to." He pressed a hand against his chest. "I mean, you rarely ever divulge that sort of information to me." His eyes narrowed as he thought for a moment. "Do you have any kids, by any chance?"

"Lucas, please!" Henry ground out through his teeth. "That is not important right now. What is important is that we find Sydney." He pointed to the manila folder that rested in Lucas's hands. "I have reason to believe that he's in some sort of trouble."

"Sydney?" Lucas repeated. Then his eyebrows rose. "Oh that smart kid in that high school class that came by?"

"Yes, and like I said, due to the circumstantial evidence, I believe that he's in a lot of trouble so it's imperative that we find him soon." Henry crossed his arms, eyes shifting back and forth as he thought. "Now, I called the school to ask for his information, but there wasn't anything they could give me. Which is odd, especially as they must have the address and emergency contact information for every child just in case there's anything that happens while at school."

Giving an incredulous laugh, Lucas walked over to his desk, dropping the folder onto his keyboard and sat down in his seat. He stretched out his bed, resting his feet on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs. "Yeah, I think they're trying their hardest not to have their students run off with potentially creepy men."

Once again, Henry sent Lucas a withering glare.

Lucas held up his hands defensively, palms out, and shook his head. "But what do I know? I'll just start looking for whatever it is I can find to help you out. You say he's in trouble? Circumstantial evidence you say?"

Now Henry's shoulders dropped and his face relaxed into a look that was sympathetic. There were too many kids that he had seen this happen to over the two hundred years he'd been alive. First there was the little boy who had died of tuberculosis, the ones that had gotten sick with polio, the ones that had gotten sick with malaria. Then as time went on he found more and more cases of child abuse as he continued to work as a doctor. It wasn't just not being able to save that one man's life that had turned him off from being a doctor once more, it was the kids.

The ones whose parents neglected their children, the ones who blatantly didn't care and he absolutely couldn't stand the disgust he would feel for those parents and for the law enforcers that would take the kids back to their mothers and fathers day after day. If his hard work to patch them up, to do what he was supposed to do, didn't help them get away from those that were hurting them in the first place, he wasn't going to do it anymore.

And while being a medical examiner there were very few bodies that would come in and that held signs of abuse, and even then he would immediately give a call to the police and watch in satisfaction when they'd be taken to jail.

But this kid was alive, it wasn't too late, and he was going to help the best he could.

"Dr. Morgan?" Lucas waved his hand in front of Henry's face, causing the man to slowly blink, breaking out of his reverie. "Hey, you kinda spaced out there. Are you all right?"

Henry shifted his gaze towards Lucas and stayed silent for a moment longer. There were always times like this where he could tell the person he was speaking to what he was what his curse was. But there was a reason why he refused to say anything to anyone other than Abe. There'd be too much publicity and people'd want to exploit him more than they would want to help him and he wasn't going to risk that. Not when there was another life on the line.

"I was just thinking of places he'd be," Henry murmured. "Please, get back to me with what you can; I have a meeting I need to get to." He walked into his office and grabbed his jacket, pulling it over his shoulders. It was times like this he wished he could get his driver's license, so he didn't have to rely on public transportation or someone to drive him.

_Though I don't suppose figuring proper documentation would be so easy now, _Henry thought. He had started to leave his office, but Lucas's voice stopped him once more.

"But what about Detective Martinez?" He called after his boss. "Don't you usually ask her for help on these sort of cases? Or, doesn't she ask you? I mean, you two are always spending time together and everything—"

"I'll be back later, Lucas," Henry interrupted. He left the medical examiner's office and caught the bus to take him back to the antique shop. He walked inside and found Abe in the middle of working with a client. Abe noticed him there and hurried through the rest of the transaction—over a Bhudda statue—and went over to the man that had adopted him.

"Is everything all right?" He asked his father. "Did something happen? You didn't accidentally stick yourself with some of those chemicals that you work with and die in the middle of the office did you?" He looked Henry up and down. "Then again, you are considerably less wet and naked, so…"

Despite the situation, Henry managed a chuckle. He figured it would be something that was humorous if it weren't for it being so unpleasant every time. Not only was it the pain, but sometimes it was just humiliating. The specific moment that he couldn't help but think about as he went through his numerous list of deaths—he had them recorded specifically to aid in his research to figure out how to die—was the one time he had slipped on a sock that had fallen out of his laundry basket and fell down the stairs.

"Abe, do you still skateboard?" Henry asked the older man.

Glancing at his father as if he were crazy, Abe motioned for him to join him at the table where the two played chess every day. Slowly lowering himself into his seat, Abe let out an unattractive grunting sound then leaned forward, lacing his fingers and leaning towards his foster-father. "Now, did that sound like the sort of man who would continue to skateboard?" He waved a hand. "I was just going through a crisis. I mean, you can't die, I'm going to die soon…"

"Hopefully not too soon."

"But it's going to happen and I want you to be prepared for it."

"Thanks for the sentiment, but we're not talking about me at the moment." Henry leaned towards Abe. "Sydney, the boy who came in here a few weeks ago. Does he ever go to the skate park with you? Have you ever seen him around? I know that skateboarding is a big thing with teenagers right now and this would help me find him."

Abe's eyes lowered towards his aging hands. "The one that may be abused. Yes, I understand your concerns." He owed his life to Henry, he and Abigail, for saving him from one of those that'd be executed during the Holocaust but the two had loved him enough to help him find life. "I understand greatly. Well, I haven't seen him around, but I can ask the dudes at the park if they know of him." He could feel Henry's eyes on him and peeked upwards.

Yes, it was that familiar 'I-know-there's-something-you're-not-telling-me' look that all parents somehow learned.

"What?"

"I thought you stopped skateboarding?"

"OK!" Abe brought his hands to his lap. "You caught me. But that look where you worry about me and then start to lecture me about the sport started to get on my nerves and I didn't tell you."

"Right, well, if you break a bone, don't say I didn't warn you."

"OK then." Standing up, he pushed back the edge of his chair in his movement. "I'll go check it out. There haven't been a lot of customers today anyway." His voice lifted with his next words, "I wonder why."

"Just because I want to be sure that our items are sold to people who will really care about them doesn't mean it's a bad thing," Henry defended himself.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Abe left the antique store, flipping the OPEN sign over to CLOSED. Henry continued to sit at the chess table for a long moment, staring at the pieces as they were arranged on the board. They couldn't move unless they were directed to, much like the way child abuse victims were handled. Henry's hand closed into a fist.

He was going to find that boy.

* * *

><p>Sydney slowly, painfully lifted himself off of his bedroom floor. He looked down where he had just been lying and saw a few spots of blood had fallen to the carpet. Then he registered the ringing in his head and the burning of his lip and reached up to find that it was swollen and split.<p>

Fingers carefully moving up his face, he took stock of the damage. Swollen and split lip, black eye, bruising around his jaw bone. The rest of his body was painful to move, there had been numerous blows to his chest and stomach by being kicked, his back was more than likely scratched and bruised, having been thrown to the ground so many times.

All for telling him that he was on his last beer.

Sydney continued to push himself until he was standing and shuffled to the bathroom. Glancing into the mirror, he saw the damage up close. His dark blue eyes slowly moved over the wounds before he lifted the bottom of his shirt and stared at his chest and stomach. It was turning black and blue, much like the two colors he always wore.

_Always find a way to hide it, _he reminded himself with a half-smile. Smiling caused the split to open even wider and Sydney watched as the blood pooled, beaded up, and rolled down his chin into the sink. It splattered the one spot of color against the otherwise white marble. _I'm going to have to clean that up too. _

Just like the beer bottle he had cleaned up that had been thrown against the wall and shattered. Listening hard, Sydney leaned out the bathroom door, hoping to hear his foster-father had left the apartment. There was a moment of silence then he could hear the front door slam and the lock go.

Finally, he was all alone.

Just as he had been for the past couple of years, when he had been ripped away from his brothers and sisters in Australia and taken to New York. They were all older than him, five years, seven years, ten years, they weren't and couldn't be under Robert's control anymore. Once they turned of age he grabbed the youngest one, Sydney, and fled to the US.

He just hoped that his brothers and sisters were trying their hardest to find him; he was tired of being alone. Pulling back the shower curtain, Sydney reached in and turned on the water, leaving it cold. He liked it better that way, it made it so that he was still able to feel something. Getting in the shower, Sydney stood under the spray, watching as the blood rolled down his body and swirled down the drain in rusty colored, swirling ribbons.

He didn't stay in the shower long; there wasn't a lot of time left. Getting out of the shower he quickly dried off and went through the routine of dressing his wounds, covering it up as much as he could, and redressed before hurrying to his room as quickly as he could. He went over to his mattress and lifted it, picking up the cell phone that was underneath.

"C'mon, c'mon." He powered it on and sank to the floor. "C'mon you piece of junk." Heart sinking, he noticed that the battery was dying. It was going to have to be a quick call; he just hoped the time difference wasn't a problem. Once the phone finally came on, he punched in the numbers he had memorized since he was a kid, and put the phone to his ear. "C'mon. C'mon. C'mon."

"Syd?" The familiar voice of his eldest brother, Julius, came on the line. "Little Man, are you OK?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Sydney said quickly. "I…I just wanted you guys to know." He swallowed hard. "Are the lot there?"

"They're next to me," Julius said, seconds before Sydney could hear his brothers and sisters all speaking at once, demanding to know where he was and if he was OK.

"Don't worry, Syd, we're going to find you," Patrick said firmly. Then his twin brother, Noah came on the line, speaking I his softer voice, "Can you tell us anything about where you are? Any clues or anything?"

"No…I…I don't have a lot of time to talk," Sydney said.

"We're talking to the police," Rhuben then came on, her voice comforting him the most. She and her twin, Riley, had both stepped up to take care of him and the rest of their siblings since their parents had died and since Robert had become a foster parent to them all. "They're doing their best to get the American authorities to help us out."

"And you know how fucking long it takes to get help there," Riley then came on the line. "But we're doing our best." Her voice softened. "Hang in there, Bro."

"I am, Sis," Sydney said. "I am." His hand shook as there was a low beeping sound, accompanied by his phone vibrating in his hand. Pulling it away from his ear, he saw that the battery was getting very low. "The phone's dying and he's going to be back soon. I miss you, lot."

"We miss you to, Syd," Julius said. "Boofhead, of course we miss you too."

Sydney smiled, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. The moment was shattered by the sound of the door opening and closing once more, accompanied by the tell-tale sounds of Robert's footsteps heading towards the kitchen. He had only gone down to the corner store to get some more beer, the precursor to either a good mood or being beaten for the rest of the night.

"I have to go," he said in a quick, harsh whisper. "Hoo roo."

"Syd—"

He cut off his brother's protest and turned off the phone, stashing it back under his mattress. Making a mental note to charge the phone he tucked into the back corner of the bed frame, out of sight. Listening hard, he heard Robert go from the kitchen back to the living room and the TV turn on.

Good, that meant the rest of the night was going to be uneventful or else he would've been knocked out at that moment.

With a sigh, Sydney painfully climbed onto his bed, curling up into the fetal position. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. A tear collected at the corner of his eye but he refused to let it fall. It would only give Robert more power if he let it fall and the last thing he needed was more weakness in the power struggle.

Because he was going to get away, one way or another.


	5. Chapter 5

**.:5:.**

* * *

><p>"Ok, you're very aware that these aren't, specifically the kinds of cases that I do, right?" Jo said as she shifted in the driver's seat of her cop car. "In fact, I'm not a private investigator or even pretend to be one. This is seriously going out of my jurisdiction."<p>

Henry let out a light chuckle, turning his gaze from the passenger side window. He stretched his legs the best he could, knowing the passenger seat couldn't extend back any further. Who knew cop cars weren't as spacious as they appeared to be? Then again, he had been around long enough to see the change of automobiles and he was glad they had become more fuel efficient and safer as the years had done by.

"I know that you're anxious, Detective, but the last thing you need to do is compensate for that by being specifically abrasive to me," Henry said, looking at her. Jo turned to look at him, opening her mouth to defend herself, but Henry continued. "It's dark out, we're watching a bar, and I can't even begin to count how many drunken men have leered at you as they went by." He bobbed his head back and forth. "Not to mention that you're not particularly happy to be stuck in suck tight quarters with me, but even then that's up for debate."

Jo slowly closed her mouth. She was used to being rendered speechless by the peculiar medical examiner, but she had never truly been at a loss for words. Was it as pathetic as she thought it was? She was the one that was in power, the one that had the gun, the taser, the badge, and the ability to shut down the bar if she ever felt things were getting out of control. And yet, she was still a woman and found herself worried about what would happen if there was a chance she was caught alone with someone who was drunk.

Especially if that someone was the one that Henry was accusing of abusing his son. Then she thought about the last thing he had said and sat up straight, looking at him incredulously.

"I beg your pardon," she said.

Henry was amused at her sudden indignation. Being alive for so long, one of the things he enjoyed the most was people watching, knowing what they were actually thinking and feeling when they weren't aware of it themselves. "Over the past few cases we've worked out, we usually end up coming back with you warning me not to do something or that I need to be more careful," he said slowly. "So considering that you willingly listened to what I've had to say and brought me out here, also willingly to sit with me in close quarters for hours on end…there's also the slight hesitation of being in the car with me and I can't help but think that it's because there are still things about your husband and his passing that you haven't gotten over."

Jo let out a pained sigh, turning her head and resting it against the window at her side. She accused him of being mysterious and holding things in all the time, and then she went and did the same. But how could she open herself up to someone in that way when her husband was the only one that had managed to break through her walls? _Well, Henry's done that too, but in a different way, _she reminded herself. _Whether he wanted to or not, though he's always so self-assured about himself. _Brushing her hair off of her forehead she let out another sigh, trying to formulate an answer.

Well, they had grown to be close as time went on with the cases they worked on. Henry certainly did have a knack for figuring out things that she and the rest of her co-workers wouldn't have been able to do. After seeing him put his skills to the test, she knew he would be a great help for them and continued to seek him out whenever something big came in.

Or was that the real reason why?

"It was a…strange day," she murmured. "We had gone to the gym early that morning…and the next thing I knew he was stumbling off of the treadmill, grasping at his chest. Then…he was gone." She shook her head, staring out the window, not focusing on anything. "I didn't think it would be like that."

"Well, no one can see whenever death is coming," Henry said with a pained expression on his face. "The best thing you can do it take life one step at a time. Though I can say with confidence that he wouldn't have gone if he had the choice." Jo looked over at him, noticing the sudden change in tone in his voice. It had turned soft, soothing. "The love you felt for each other…it's what many try to achieve and when you find it, the last thing you want to do is to let go. It doesn't mean, after their passing that you _do _let go, it means you move on…still taking them with you."

"Henry…have…have you been married before?"

Now how was he supposed to answer that question? If he said 'yes', then he would have to show pictures, answer questions…it wouldn't take long for her to figure out there was something he was hiding and would continue to hide until he was sure there was someone else he could confide his secret to. However, if he said 'no' there were still questions he would need to answer because what he had said…it would only come from experience of those that had been married. T

The pain in his voice was evident, even he could hear it in his own voice and he slightly cursed himself for having become so open to her. But he couldn't help it. There was something about their situation that had wanted him to…get closer to her? He hadn't wanted to get close to anyone since Abigail.

"I've…had some experience with relationships," he finally said. "Some worked out, some didn't."

"But there was still one that was really special, wasn't there?" Jo continued to press.

"You're very perceptive." Henry eyed her out of the corner of his eye, noticing how she turned her head from the window and gently lifted her chin, the way her shoulders moved downwards, her hands moving from being clasped in her armpits to being in her lap. She was comfortable with him, completely comfortable for the first time since they had met. It made him smile. "Of course not as perceptive as I am"—Jo glared at him—"Of course that's not the point. Yes, there was someone very special to me in my life."

"What happened?"

"…Things didn't work out."

"Did you have kids?"

Henry grimaced, that question opened up a different can of worms. "No, I haven't. But I've worked around a lot of kids over my years as a doctor and I can't stand to think that there's something truly evil happening to them." An image of Abe as an infant popped into his head nestled in Abigail's arm as he worked to save as many people as he could from the Jewish internment camp. He couldn't bear to think what would've happened to him if they hadn't had intervened and adopted him. "I can turn my cheek on a lot of things, but not when it comes to the danger of a child."

Jo nodded and there was a heavy silence in the car once more. The two continued to watch the entrance of the bar until a group started to work their way out of the bar. The two sat up straight and watched as the group of men in their early forties or so talked and laughed with each other. Some of them were swaying on their feet; others appeared to have been able to hold their liquor pretty well and were holding the others up. After a few moments, the group dispersed into a few taxis, leaving one man standing on the curb.

Henry looked towards the man as he looked at his phone and headed inside, and then quickly shifted his gaze down to the folder that was in his lap. Lucas had done a great job at getting the information he needed to know.

"Robert Jackson," Lucas said early that afternoon, dropping the folder onto Henry's desk. Henry looked up at his assistant then grabbed the folder. "He's forty-two, has been in New York for almost one year, and has a son, Sydney. Strangely enough, there aren't any indicators or abuse. No other trips to doctors other than a physical."

_Strange. _Henry took the folder and opened it, staring at the photo of the man that sat in front of her. The man was handsome, but had piercing gray eyes that made him feel a bit unsettled. He couldn't begin to imagine what Sydney saw if his assumptions were correct. "If there've been no complaints, no trips to the doctor or the hospital other than a physical, then things will be harder to figure out."

"But I did find one thing that should be of good use to you," Lucas continued. "This guy has a fifteen year old son, no girlfriend. That gives grounds for the two to spend a lot of time together, right?" Henry nodded. He spent a lot of time with Abe while his son had been growing up; all of the healthy relationships had the father and son communicate often. "Wrong. This guy is constantly seen at the Uptown Billiards Club."

Henry gave him a blank look.

Lucas stared back for a moment then realized his boss didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "It's a bar…across the city." He crossed his arms, watching as the man looked at the picture once more. "Great priced bear, pool tables, and good times. I mean, maybe one day after work we could hang out like bros. Go to the bar, play a game of pool, get to know each other?" Henry glanced at him once more. "You know, it was just an idea. Anyway, there's everything you need about that guy. He's always at the bar, so chances are he's gonna be there soon."

"Thanks Lucas, this is very helpful," Henry said to him, busying himself in his work. Lucas had nodded and left the room, leaving Henry to scour all of the information he could get on Robert Jackson as he could.

Now that he saw the man head back into the bar, he quickly got out of the car and headed towards the entrance. Jo scurried out after him and hurried over to the man. "Wait!" She called. She then noticed the stares she was getting from the seedy men that continued to stand around outside. Looping her arm through Henry's, she leaned close to him, earning a surprised glance in response. "We have to be inconspicuous right?" She pointed out. "It'd be weird if you went in by yourself and immediately went straight to the guy and laid him out."

"Laid him out?" Henry repeated. "Is _that _what they're saying now?"

"Urban dictionary, my friend," Jo pointed out. "A few hours on that website and a cell phone and you'll be brought into the twenty-first century, I promise." She patted him on the arm and the two slid inside the bar. Henry scanned the bar until he found Robert sitting on a bar stool, minding his own business, doing shots. Henry tilted his head and the two walked over, taking the two empty stools next to him. He glanced at Henry, who sat directly next to him, and nodded in greeting before turning back to his glass of beer.

"Take it from me, man," Robert said in a voice that bordered on gruff. "It doesn't matter what you order, after a while it all starts to taste the same, am I right?" He chuckled to himself and took another sip, nodding to the bartender who moved over to address Henry and Jo for their drink orders. "But Neil here, he'll give you a good deal."

"Thanks for the tip," Henry said. He gave Neil their drink orders and leaned back as Robert looked at him in amusement. "Is there something wrong?"

"My son…my adopted son…he talks exactly like you do," Robert replied, his words slurring slightly. Henry was a bit impressed, the man had clearly been there for a while judging by the glasses around him and he was only just starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. "With that accent and everything."

"Oh, is he British?" Jo broke in.

"No, Australian."

Henry turned to Jo and gave her a look of offense. "I'm Welsh," he said to her. Jo shrugged in reply, trying her best to appear inconspicuous as possible in case she needed to make a move. "Please excuse my friend, she's geographically challenged." Jo elbowed him in the side and he did his best not to smile, enjoying her annoyance. "But he's from Australia, you said?"

"Yes, sir, I adopted him when he was an infant, parents died in a house fire. It's really very sad. Tragic." Robert took a long gulp of beer and belched. "New York seems to be working out for him though. He's always going somewhere after school, I hardly see him as it is. He's kind of a tough kid, though. Never tells me where he's going, who he's with, sometimes I have to remind him that I'm the boss in the house. Am I right?"

Henry was doing his best to restrain himself. The way the man was sitting on the bench next to him…he clearly was smug about something and it infuriated him. This man was hurting his son, he knew it deep down in his gut, and the man continued to sit there on the stool and pour back beers, practically laughing as he spoke about the boy, trying to appear innocent. Beside him, he could see Jo press her palms together before lacing her fingers, knuckles white.

Speaking up once more, Henry tried a different tactic. "You know, I think I've met him before? I'm a medical examiner and he came into my office during a field trip for his class."

"Right, I remember having signed that stupid permission slip. The way I see it, if kids want to do something and they got a chaperone, they don't need a permission slip."

"He's really very remarkable," Henry continued. "A very smart kid. He even correctly deducted what had happened to the body I was working on at the time." Now he went in for the kill. "I've seen him around since then and he continues to amaze me with his intellect."

Robert rolled his eyes, pushing his glass away from him. "The kid is a freaking smart ass. I can't ever get him to shut up." Then he slowly started to laugh. "Well, it used to be a problem, not so much anymore. You got to show them you mean business sometimes, man. If you ever have kids, remember that." He nonchalantly tossed a couple of bills onto the counter and that movement along with Henry's last words caused the man to erupt.

Henry leapt off of his chair and swung wide, catching his fist on the side of Robert's face. The man stumbled back and chaos erupted around them as Robert came back at Henry with a punch that knocked him to the floor. He had underestimated the man and how many drinks he had consumed. He expected someone who would fall over, not become enraged because of it and manage to fire back so easily. Bringing a hand up to his face, Henry got to his feet and turned back around, ready to lash out at Robert once more and found a flurry of fists thrown his way. He did his best to dodge and weave, catching a few himself, before firing back at him.

"NYPD! Break it up!" Jo called loudly, showing off her badge. Robert looked at it and immediately backed down, having been held back by a few bar patrons around them. "Break it up!" With a sigh of resignation she waved to Robert. "You're free to go," she said.

Enraged, Henry whirled back to her, eyes flashing. "What?" He demanded. "He's free to go?"

"We can't charge him with anything as there is no proof of anything that he's done other than defend himself." She sighed once more and regarded Henry carefully. "You on the other hand…you know I have to arrest you, right?"

Still glaring, Henry pushed by him and stormed towards her cruiser. "I've had a lot of experience with that."

* * *

><p>The next morning, as Sydney walked to school, he was sure he was being followed. Not only was he that aware of his surroundings, but he had been trained for it. When he was with his brothers and sisters they got into prank wars a lot, and sneak attacks were not unheard of, making it so that they were aware of everything that went around them in case they had to use their quick reflexes and duck out of the way of a flying pillow or tackle from behind.<p>

But this was New York, where being aware of surroundings was even more important. Not only was there a good chance that he could be mugged, but as far as he was concerned, his father was a bit too cautious about people he talked to and hung out with. But this was different; he was on his way into the city, skipping school that day so he could duck into the library. Anything so no one would ask where he was or why he was walking funny. He had managed to hide the bruises on his face and get the swelling down with a lot of ice, but the rest of his body felt as if it were on fire.

Not that he wasn't used to it. It had been going on long enough.

_Just like this guy following me. _Shifting his lower jaw to the side, Sydney hitched his backpack up his back, wincing at the movement, and spoke out towards Henry, who was following a few meters behind him. "I know you're following me," he said to the man. "What do you want, mate?"

Henry's eyebrows rose as he walked up to the teenage boy and continued by him. "What makes you think I'm following you?"

"The fact that you didn't deny it for one thing," Sydney commented, walking alongside him. "The other being that your body language; your posture, hands in pockets, walking at a leisurely pace, shows that you're very confident about something. And you've taken the exact same turns I've been taking for the past few blocks and it can't be a coincidence that you're coming this way, yeah?"

Henry smiled.

The teenage boy really was like him, minus his obvious immortality. It was just…so good to know there was someone around him that was able to do the same things and deduce simple ideas the same way he had. He still got strange looks from those he could easily watch and determine where they were going and as amusing as it was, it was a lonely feeling. Not even Abe, who was the last person he had in his life, understood what it was like to have such infinite knowledge at his fingertips that, when expressed, caused alienation of those around them.

"I'm merely taking a stroll," Henry said.

"This early in the morning?" Sydney's right eyebrow curled upwards. "Don't you have a job or something to go to?"

"Don't you have school?"

"Fair chance," Sydney noted. Henry wasn't quite sure what that meant, knowing a lot about a lot of things but not quite brushed up on his Aussie slang, though he was sure it was a good thing as Sydney had smiled. "I'm...not really feeling going to school today. It's no big thing, I'm a good student and I can easily make things up. My teachers won't care."

"I'm sure they'd care a lot," Henry remarked. "If it's not the first time you haven't skipped school for a good reason."

Now Sydney snorted. "It's not like Uni is going to care if I have a few days in high school that I skipped. My grades and extracurricular will take care of that for me, mate, yeah?" He then slowed to a stop at a corner, cars blaring out in front of him. His eyes narrowed and he looked up at Henry, who continued to stand beside him. "There's…something you're not telling me," he said.

Henry continued to look out in front of him for a long moment, watching as the light changed, and started across the street once more. "Really?"

"Really." Sydney nodded once then smirked. "You were sent to jail last night. For getting into a bar right."

Henry faked a grimace. It was the opening he needed. "Yes, well, it's not my finest hour. I just got into a bit of a spat with another man that was there." He cleared his throat as Sydney chuckled. "It was such a weird coincidence though; it was your father I got into the fight with."

The smirk immediately fell from Sydney's face. He gulped quietly. No wonder Robert had stormed back into the house in such a drunken stupor the night before. As soon as he had heard the front door slam open, Sydney flew under his bed, pressing himself to the floor, quiet as possible. His father had been so drunk that when he saw an empty room he took that for face value and continued to trash the rest of the apartment before blacking out. But at least he hadn't laid a hand on him once more; Sydney didn't think he would survive if he got caught in the wrath once more. If not waking up in the hospital and that was and even worse thought.

_Play it cool, Syd. It's not a big deal. _"Huh. That's funny."

"And I couldn't help but notice that he gets pretty enraged when drunk," Henry continued.

"He's enraged a lot, even without beer," Sydney said before he could stop himself and immediately, closed in on himself. _Way to go, boofhead. _"Whatever!" He snapped. "It's none of your fucking business anyway!" He started to walk faster, trying to get away from Henry, but the older man continued to keep his pace with him.

_Thankfully he fell into my trap,_ Henry thought. He reached Sydney and grabbed onto his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. Sydney roughly tried to pull away from him, but Henry held tight. "Instead of going where you were headed…why don't you come to work with me?" He suggested. "You can get some experience in the field…see how things are done. No questions asked."

The Australian teen must've heard the calm, friendly tone in Henry's voice for he stopped trying to get away and listened to what he had to say. Gaze on the ground, still glaring—mentally berating himself—Sydney nodded.

Henry put his arm around Sydney's shoulders and led him off towards his office.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Who else besides me is excited to hear that Forever got a full season order? Thanks so much for the alerts, favorites, and reviews on this story. Like I said, it won't be the most action-paced kind of story, but I think it's something that Henry really would do and after it's done I may make a sequel to it that has more action in it, like an episode.

**Cheers**

**-Riles**


	6. Chapter 6

**.:6:.**

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><p>Detective Hanson looked up as Jo walked into an enclosed office, carrying a large box. He sighed, tilting his head towards a box that was already opened, papers strewn everywhere. "Is that more on the Jackson case?" He asked her.<p>

"Yes it is," Jo replied in a breath. She sat down next to him and gazed at the box, gently shaking her head. "I can't believe a guy with a file this big is still walking free." She bobbed her head back and forth. "Then again, Henry's is just as big." She hadn't realized the innuendo of what she had said until Detective Hanson started to chuckle to himself. "Oh, come on, Hanson! You _know _that's not what I meant!"

"I don't know, Jo," Detective Hanson wheedled. He still had an amused smile on his face despite the harsh stare that Jo was sending his way. "You and Henry seem to have a connection. I mean, you defend him every chance you get and that's only when you're not constantly trying to keep him from getting into things." He lowered in his seat, picking up a file folder and started to read over it. "I'm just saying it seems like you really care about him. That's all."

"I care about a lot of people. Including you and the status of your life if you don't end this conversation now!"

Jo opened her box and sifted through the papers, files, and reports against the man that Henry was pretty sure was a child abuser. Having been in the bar with Henry and Robert and watching their exchange…something was off. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but there was something that wasn't completely adding up. Henry had gotten so angry so quickly and whilst even she though child abusers were despicable, they couldn't particularly press charges against him at the moment. Henry was the one that had attacked him first; the only time Jo had seen his anger which was a massive contrast to the calm, cool, collected demeanor.

Something had really struck him…what was it about the teenage boy that had gotten Henry so riled up? She thought about the allegations that Henry had put against him the first time he brought up the man. He had said that he thought Sydney was separated from his brothers and sisters…and yet Robert only mentioned having one son…?

"Wait a minute," Jo murmured. She sat up and motioned to Detective Hanson to drop the file he was looking at. "When Henry and I found Robert at the bar, we talked to him a little bit and he mentioned only having one son. But Henry has been friend with Sydney for a little while—"

"—what kinds of friends does this guy have?" Hanson interrupted, right eyebrow cocking upwards. "First he seems like a loner, and then we find out that Abe is one of his friends who are like, his father's age, and now a fifteen year old kid?"

"That's not that point at the moment," Jo reminded him, ignoring the fact she had the same sort of thoughts. "Why would he say that he only had one kid when that kid says he has brothers and sisters? The parents died in a house fire…but the way Sydney had spoken of them, it sounds like he hadn't been, if this is the case, separated from them until recently."

"Let's say that's what happened…why would he only take the youngest kid?"

"That's the million dollar question."

With a slight sigh, Jo started to look through other files. Arrests for public intoxication, reports from CPS, but nothing that would cause him to actually be arrested. Jo continued to look through the many files. _How many times can CPS be brought to this guy's house? Calls from teachers, neighbors, his co-workers and nothing that would bring the guy in? _However, she couldn't help but notice that there had been no calls from Sydney, not that she expected him to in any way. It was the point of child abusers and those that were abused, there was a massive power struggle and those that were abused became very enclosed upon themselves and allowed themselves to have it continue to happen simply because of fear.

"Wait, a minute!" Detective Hanson sat up straight in his seat and started to flip a few pages aside. "Check this out, he's been in New York, the state, for about a year or so now, but he's changed addresses all over the state in that time. He's been in Westchester, Albany, Buffalo, Courtland, Geneva, Ithaca, Lockport, Peekskill, Poughkeepsie, Syracuse, Yonkers…he's moved eleven times in the past year! All shortly after he had some sort of a visit from CPS or had the cops come to search his house."

Jo quickly got up from her seat and moved behind her partner, looking over the papers that he held in his hand. "So every time someone is close to finding out his secret, he would pack them up and move somewhere else. How do we know that's not the same for his brothers and sisters?"

"Do we even know if he does?" Hanson pointed out. "We go the records, it was a closed adoption."

"Yes, well, we have our ways of breaking that information," Jo said. She patted him on the shoulder before stepping back and reaching over to grab her coat. She threw it over her shoulders and slid her arms through the sleeves. "You get that started, see if there any information we can get on Sydney's family and past in Australia, I need to go see Henry. If there's anyone that could potentially know more about this, it's him."

She started to leave the room.

"Yeah, sure."

Jo paused in the doorway, hearing the amused lift in Hanson's voice once more. She could easily defend herself and get him off her back, but then what would that do? Make him think, even stronger, that something was happening between her and Henry? The thought was simply ludicrous; he annoyed her and had a tiny bit of a 'holier-than-thou' sort of air around him as if he had seen it all and was never wrong. But there was still something about him that was interesting; his energy and commitment to his job was remarkable and was able to read people in ways she wished she could do. It'd help with police investigations for sure.

Hanson's laughter broke Jo out of her thoughts and she shook her head before leaving the room.

* * *

><p>"And this is where we keep the dead bodies," Lucas said to Sydney as he stepped into a room, turning on a light. Sydney hovered in the doorway, blue eyes moving over the rows and columns of drawers that line a wall. He tentatively stepped inside. "It can be pretty scary, sometimes, especially when some of the others that work here want to play a prank and move a body somewhere unexpected." He reached out and placed a hand on a drawer. "Like the bathroom."<p>

"The dunny?" Sydney repeated, eyebrows rising upwards.

"Yeah, right," Lucas said after a quick pause. "Scared the crap out of me." He reached out and slapped a hand against the drawer his palm had been lying flat upon and it shot open, revealing the dead body that lay inside. Sydney jumped and let out a yelp, slamming backwards into the wall behind him. His eyes screwed up in pain and he turned away, hoping Lucas didn't see.

That wasn't a problem as Lucas was too busy laughing hysterically, accompanied with hugging his stomach and slapping his knee. The sound attracted Henry to the room where he stuck his head inside and gave Lucas a disapproving look.

"You have far too much time on your hands, Lucas," Henry said, crossing his arms.

Lucas sobered from his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh come on, you did the same to me when I first got the job here. And besides, you told me to give him the tour and you can't tour a Medical Examiner's office and not show him where we stash the dead bodies." He then noticed that Sydney was suddenly standing very stiffly, arms at his sides. "Hey, are you OK?"

"I'm fine," he said tersely. "I just…hit myself against the wall." He cleared his throat, walking over to Luca and patting him on the arm. "Good job, Lucas. Bonzer. Though that's not as good as what my brothers and sisters can come up with. You can't be the youngest of six without learning how to defend yourself and how to play pranks." He moved away from the assistant medical examiner and headed towards the door. "Is there anything else to see?"

"I'll show you my office," Henry said with a nod. "Otherwise I think that' the long and short of it. What do you say after that we go out and get some lunch?" He turned and gave Lucas a pointed look. "Which I'm sure Lucas will be glad to pay for."

Lucas's mouth dropped open. "Oh, y-yeah, sure, I'll just…" Lucas trailed off as he started to pat the pockets of his scrubs. "Hey, where's my wallet?" He continued to pat his pockets frantically until he heard the sound of Henry clearing his throat. Looking up, he glanced over at the Medical Examiner and noticed the smug smile on his face before tilting his head towards the teenage boy, who appeared just as smug.

Sydney pulled his hand out from his sweatshirt pocket and waved Lucas's wallet over his head. "Another thing you learn is how to trick people." He tossed it back to Lucas before shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. "By the way, I like Mexican."

"There's something seriously wrong with you," Lucas said, catching his wallet. "You're some sort of evil mastermind or something. I won't be surprised if you take over the world or something."

Henry chuckled and stepped back so Sydney and Lucas could follow him out of the room. He closed the door behind them and started out of the room. Henry led Sydney to his office and allowed the teenage boy to go inside. Sydney's eyes widened as he looked around the office.

"It's no wonder you work in an antique shop as well, mate," he remarked. "You have some pretty good stuff here." He reached up and carefully picked up a magnifying glass and started to look through it. "Do you use some of these things on the bodies or do you just like to collect them? It's kind of a strange thing to collect, yeah?"

"Yes, well, I really enjoy history," Henry said as he stood behind the teenage boy, hands clasped behind his back. "Though I believe I should be asking you the same question. Not many fifteen year olds are interested in history and antiques to the same caliber that you do. And as it stands, not many of them can afford a thousand dollar hand mirror."

Sydney's eyes shifted as he turned around to face Henry. He glanced down at his feet for a moment before suddenly appearing more confident. "Yeah, well, my Dad doesn't care what I spend my money on as long as it's nothing too extravagant." He shrugged. "It's not a big deal, really. He doesn't think that money should be a problem. It's no big deal, mate." He waved his hand.

Henry's eyebrow continued to cock upwards. He was silent for a long moment, watching as the teenage boy continued to move around the office, looking over the other trinkets that Henry used to decorate his office. So his first attempt at getting the boy to reveal his suspicions didn't work, that didn't mean he was going to give up that easily. _There's going to be a way for him to slip up._

"Did your father tell you that I ran into him at the bar recently?"

Now Sydney stopped in his tracks. "You did?"

"Yes, we got to talking a little bit. He didn't say much, though he does seem to be a bit on the aggressive side," Henry continued. "Then again, some can get very…different while they're under the influence of alcohol I suppose."

Sydney snorted. "There's hardly a time where he's _not_ angry, I don't think I remember a time where he's ever been nice." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he slapped his hands over them, realizing he had made a mistake. His eyes shifted and he dropped the magnifying glass onto the desk top, quickly moving towards the door. "Uh, I-I have to go. I don't think—"

Henry reached out a hand and blocked Sydney's way. "Sydney, is everything all right at home?"

"Everything's fine."

"Because if there's anything wrong, I want you to know that you can come talk to me."

"Nothing's wrong! I just…my Dad's gonna be pissed if he finds out that I skipped school."

"I thought you said he wouldn't care?"

Sydney's lower jaw dropped and he tired his hardest to find his way out of the situation. His eyes then narrowed and he looked up at Henry suspiciously. "I know what you're doing," he murmured. "You're trying to trick me into saying something. I can tell…I can hear it in your voice. That…that intense concern, I've heard it enough, I can always tell." He glared. "There's nothing going on, just leave me alone!" He pushed by the Medical Examiner and hurried out of his office.

"Sydney!" Henry called after him and moved out of the office as well. He stopped when he noticed Jo standing in the middle of the floor, holding onto Sydney's shoulders as he frantically tried to get out of her grasp. "Detective Martinez."

"I was coming here to talk to you about Sydney, but I see that he paid you a little visit first," Jo said. She looked down at the teenage boy, still holding tightly onto him. "Now you, young man, why aren't you in school? You know it's against the law to skip school and something tells me if I call they won't have it on record of you being there today."

"Let go!" Sydney reached up and roughly shoved Jo off him.

She reacted quickly, grabbing onto his arms and forcing them behind his back, causing him to fall to his knees. "Assaulting an officer isn't something you want on your record, I'm sure of it," he added. Sydney bent his head forward, letting out a loud sigh. He rested his forehead against the cold ground.

_Almost as if he was…giving up. _Henry thought, eyebrows furrowing together. He had just watched the boy try and fight off a police officer, tried to sprint out of the office when he had been backed into a lie, and now…

Henry's eyebrows furrowed together as he exchanged a glance with Lucas, who had watched the exchange in confusion. "Not even I would be dumb enough to assault an officer that's as good looking as she is," Lucas remarked. When all eyes turned towards him, he cleared his throat, scratching the side of his neck, turning away from Henry and Jo.

"Yes, well, I…" Jo trailed off as her eyes moved down towards Sydney, noticing something on the back of his neck. She let go of one hand and reached over towards the back of his sweatshirt. She gently tugged it down and her eyes widened when she spotted a cigarette burn on the back of his neck. Pulling the sweatshirt down further, she spotted the beginning of a bruise resting at the top of his back. Raising her eyes to Henry, she silently conveyed the message _you were right _to him before helping Sydney up to his feet.

The Australian boy continued to hold his head down towards the floor. "Who did this to you?" She asked him. Sydney continued to look at the ground. "Did your father do this to you?" There was a long moment of silence then Sydney finally nodded. "How long has this been going on?" He shrugged. "Sydney, we can't help you if you don't tell us what we need to know."

"Why does it matter?" Sydney mumbled; voice low and sullen. "No matter how many times he gets reported…nothing ever happens. He always talks his way out of the charges and the next thing we know, we're moving again."

Henry walked over to Sydney and placed his hands on his shoulders as Jo let go of him. Sydney flinched horribly and moved away from the medical examiner. "You mentioned having brothers and sisters and yet, when we asked your father, he only mentioned having one son."

"Because,"—Sydney let out another sigh—"He adopted all of us after our parents passed. But when my brothers and sisters turned of age, they emancipated themselves from him. Then he took me and we moved to America and he enrolled me in school here. I haven't been in touch with my brothers and sisters except for the few times I managed to call them. But…they don't know where I am."

"I see." Jo turned Sydney towards her. "Thank you for telling me. Now, I'm going to have to take you to the police station because you assaulted me, but do you have any idea of where we can get a hold of your father. Is he at work?"

Again Sydney shook his head. "No, he's at the apartment. Hungover."

Jo nodded and pulled out her walkie-talkie, relaying the message to Hanson, who was waiting at the precinct. She replaced the walkie-talkie on her belt and moved to put her hand on Sydney's shoulder once more and he flinched once more, quickly backing away from her. "We're not going to let anything else happen to you," she promised. "We're going to help you find your brothers and sisters and Robert…we're going to do our best to see that he gets some jail time."

Sydney nodded.

Jo looked up towards Henry. "Good work, Henry," she said to him.

He nodded.

It was one of the few times he hated being right.


	7. Chapter 7

**.:7:.**

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><p>When Henry and Jo arrived at the apartment, the stench of alcohol and vomit immediately hit them, causing them to recoil from the door. Jo turned her head away, bringing her hand up over her nose. She glanced at the door and then took another step away, hoping to escape the smell. She was glad that despite all of the drinking she did—not enough to get particularly drunk—she never ended up smelling like that.<p>

Nor did she wake up _completely _hung-over, not like the man that was inside the apartment as the teenage boy had said. How many times had Sydney woken up to find the man covered in his own waste and reeking of alcohol, having to skip school or come late to school because he had to drag him to the shower and wash him off before getting the grown man into his bed to clean him off.

_How many times had he managed to avoid the want to drown the man and run off to find his brothers and sisters by himself? _Jo asked herself, standing up straight once more, when she got used to the smell. Brushing her hair from her face, she glanced over at Henry, who had recoiled as she did. _Then again, he seems really loyal to the man if not completely fearful of him. _Lifting her gun, she nodded at Henry and the mysterious man reached out and knocked on the door, keeping his back pressed against the wall just in case something were to happen.

"NYPD!" Jo called, holding the gun steadily in her hands. "Robert Jackson, open the door!"

There was a long moment of silence and then stumbling footsteps before a crashing sound and a grunt. Then silence once more. Jo steeled herself and called out once more. "We're coming in! Keep your hands where we can see them!" She turned her shoulder and rammed it into the door. The door popped open and she quickly slid inside, moving in front of Henry, keeping the gun at a steady level.

Checking the first room on the left, which she wasn't surprised to find was Sydney's—a way for the man to torture the boy, to have him as close to the outside world as he could, but now allowing him that escape—and found it was clear. After her quick sweep—noticing how barren it appeared—Jo continued on through the apartment. Turning the corner, Henry flung out his arm, catching Jo in the stomach and stopping her in her tracks.

Robert Jackson lay kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, one arm leaning against the seat of a wooden chair, the other straight out, holding a pistol trained on both Jo and Henry. His bloodshot eyes trained upon them, eyes a bit lifeless as he continued to watch them.

"What…are you doing in my house?" His words were slightly slurred. And judging by the beer bottles that sat by the recycling bin in the kitchen, he had a high tolerance of alcohol. But from what Sydney had told them when he was brought to the police station for his own safety, the man had been drinking enough for years so that he had managed to drink more and more as the days went on.

"In fact," Sydney had said with a light laugh, "I'm surprised his liver isn't completely falling apart, yeah?"

Now Henry and Jo knew that while the man was intoxicated, or at least hung-over, he may have been even more dangerous. "Robert, we have reason to believe that you've been hurting your child," Henry said to the man as calmly, rationally as he could. He was angry, having seen the state of the apartment, the living conditions that Sydney had been in, hearing the story of how he was ripped from him home and his brothers and sisters all because Robert wanted to exploit his smarts as well as musical ability…

It made him sick.

It took everything in his body not to lurch across the room and throttle him.

"We have a warrant for your arrest," Jo continued. "We're going to handcuff you and take you down to the precinct to get everything straightened out."

Robert slowly started to smile. "Is that what he told you?" He asked. "What's wrong with a bit of discipline."

"What's wrong," Henry shouted. "Is that you're not giving him discipline, you're scaring him half to death! You're torturing him and beating him when he doesn't live up to your standards. That is _not _discipline and don't delude yourself into thinking it is!"

Robert slowly rose to his feet, still holding the gun. "Is that what you think?"

"Drop the gun, Robert," Jo said, keeping her gun pointed at his shoulder. They didn't want to kill him, just wanted to incapacitate him enough to show him that she meant business.

"You don't know a damn thing about me! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I _said_ drop the gun!"

"I'm his friend," Henry replied, hands clenching into fists.

He was aware he was putting himself in danger, not only of getting hurt, but risking Jo and Robert both finding out his secret. But he didn't care. He didn't care about himself or what would be the fallout, he cared about the well-being of the fifteen year old boy that had gone through so much pain at a young age and continued to feel that pain from the hands of another person as he grew up. It would take a long time for the fifteen years of pain to finally be reversed and for the boy to know he wasn't as much of a failure as Robert had drilled into his head. Henry wouldn't allow him to be a punching bag anymore.

"I care about him and I can't stand the thought of you mentally, physically, and emotionally abusing him anymore."

"It's _not _abuse, it's tough love!"

"And ripping him away from his brothers and sisters, the ones that really loved him, and taking him here was the best way to do that?"

"Robert, I will ask you one more time to _drop the gun, now!"_

Robert let out a loud, hollow laugh. It sounded harsh and empty. When he lowered his head once more his face was a mask of a lot of emotions that Henry couldn't quite place. "I gave that little runt everything he could need, so what if I started to give him a bit of discipline when he acted out? I know he missed his brothers and sisters but he wasn't going to get the best education out there. The kid's a genius those school weren't challenging him and he started to get bored."

"That's not the story we were told," Henry growled.

"Yeah, well, he's a liar."

"The last thing that boy is, is a liar." Henry took a step forward. "He's open and honest and a bit arrogant, but he's not a liar. He only became a liar because you made him that way!"

Something shifted over Robert's face and it turned dark; an evil, malicious darkness that was a very obvious shift. Robert's arms dropped to his side and he glared at the two before suddenly moving, bringing his arm back up. Jo reacted quickly and shot him in the shoulder. Robert stumbled back, face contorting in surprise and pain.

Then there was another gunshot.

Now Henry let out a gasp of surprise. Bringing his hands up to his chest, he recognized the feeling of the bullet being lodged into his chest. Glancing down, he noticed the red rose of blood blooming across the front of his clothes and the pain set in. Grimacing, he glanced over at Jo, whom he noticed had moved her lips as if she was calling his name, but he couldn't hear anything.

Things were moving at a slow blur.

He had to get out.

Henry turned and stumbled out of the apartment as quickly as he could, making sure not to press his hands against the walls to stop himself from falling. He couldn't risk leaving any hand prints, or any other evidence that would make things harder for him to explain how he had disappeared. Henry managed to make it as far as the hallway before collapsing on his back. He took the last few gasps of air before he felt his heart stop.

Then everything had gone dark and he was back, popping up like a cork in the east river, shivering and gasping for air.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a huff when he spotted the park filled with people milling around, some starting to move towards the water's edge as they noticed him. Then he noticed that a few were calling over to him, waving their hands, someone had a phone up to their ear.

He didn't expect it'd be long before h was back with the NYPD explaining, once again, that no, he did not have some sort of exhibitionist fetish, and no, it wasn't funny.

* * *

><p>After Henry had gotten clothed at the police station, he did his best to steer clear of Jo, knowing she was going to need some sort of explanation as to how and why he had disappeared as well as to why he wasn't injured. He could fake it; he had done it for ages, but she as bound to dig into his file and question why he hadn't been taken to the hospital or why he didn't have a wound in the middle of his chest.<p>

He could probably pass it off as the one on his peck, but who knew how smart she was or how she was able to see through his lies. Instead, he avoided her as he moved through the halls of the precinct, looking for the room that Sydney had been brought to earlier that morning.

Finally, he had found Detective Hanson leaving the room and walked up to him. "Pardon me, but I hope you'd give me the chance to speak with Sydney."

"We've just told him that his father is in custody," Detective Hanson replied. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and patting Henry on the shoulder. "Great job, doctor," he said to him. "The boy's not going to live in fear anymore."

Henry nodded and waited for Detective Hanson to leave the vicinity before knocking on the door and heading into the interrogation room. Sydney flicked his hair out of his face, hands in front of his sweatshirt, and looked over at Henry with a curious expression on his face.

"So I heard that my Dad roughed you up a bit, yeah?" He remarked.

Henry grimaced. "Nothing that I couldn't handle," he replied, taking a seat away from the table and sat down next to him. "I used to box, you know."

"I don't believe that for a second." Chuckling, Sydney shook his head. "You're too…gangly for the sport, no offense, mate."

Henry laughed. "I can assure you that I am not too gangly for the sport, in fact, I'm quite life on my feet. I really enjoy it, though it's only something I've just taken up recently." He cleared his throat, leaning forward and rested his arms on his legs, hands dangling between his knees. "We have your father in custody and I can assure you that he's going to be in for a long time."

Tilting his head to the side, Sydney's face twisted into an expression of utter disbelief.

"I know he's managed to get away from it before, but he's not going to get away with what he's done to you now," Henry continued. Sydney nodded and looked away. "And, we're going to do our best to get in contact with your brothers and sisters and find them for you and reunite them with him. I'll admit, he's done a great job of keeping you all separated, but we're going to find them." Sydney nodded again. "When was the last time you've seen them?"

"Two years ago," Sydney said, voice breaking at the end with emotion. "I used to spend every day with them, yeah? Day in and day out and suddenly, they were gone. I was forced out of the house and on a plane and brought here, saying I wasn't going to see them again." He scratched his forehead. "It wasn't until I managed to get my hands on a prepaid phone and call them that I found out Patrick and Noah had been granted emancipation from Robert and I was stuck and Robert knew it, so he took me away."

A tear roll down his right cheek and he quickly brushed it away. "I didn't know anything about it…and yet I was the one pawn he had and he knew it. All because for the next six years or so I was still under his order before the law got in the way."

Henry nodded and reached out, placing his hand on Sydney's shoulder. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and flinched away for a moment before relaxing, his shoulders slumping in relief when he found that Henry wasn't about to hit him. They sat in silence for a long while before Sydney spoke up again. "Dr. Morgan, thank you."

"You're very welcome, Sydney," Henry replied, sincerely. "We're going to help you the best we can."

Sydney lifted his head and looked Henry up and down for a long moment. Taking in his body language and smile, he knew the older man was being sincere. "Henry, may I ask you something?"

"Sure . Anything."

Sydney's right eyebrow rose, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "Why are you wet?"

Henry was stunned for a second before he burst out laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you so much for those that reviewed, favorited, and alerted. I really enjoyed writing this story and I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as you did. I have an idea for a sequel where Sydney works along with Henry and Jo, the way Abe kind of does, as well as bringing in his siblings...let me know if you'd like to see it.

Thanks again!

Cheers,

-Riles


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